


The Servant

by natascha_ronin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Hell, Other, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6423394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natascha_ronin/pseuds/natascha_ronin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian is tortured in the Underworld by a familiar face. Spec fic for the Underworld premier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Servant

Eyelids swollen shut; Killian stumbled blindly around his cell. His arms tied in front of him, he squatted down to ease the ache in his back, only to shoot back up again. He winced and hissed as clotted cuts broke open, blood and pus oozing down his skin. Lashes and burns covered his body. His clothes clung to them. He couldn’t sleep because he couldn’t lie down on the stone floor, so he stood and paced to pass the time. 

He heard a whisper of fabric and the clanking of metal. He tried to say something, but it came out as nothing but a guttural moan. He licked his cracked lips with his swollen tongue, thirst a constant anguish. _When will it end?_ He thought. 

“Never,” came the spoken reply.

He shuddered at the voice. _Her voice._ He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was standing in front of him. He didn’t know if it was day or night. They didn’t exist in this realm. There was just pain. 

He lost hope a long time ago, or yesterday. He didn’t know when. There was nothing to do now but hurt, and fear the woman he once loved.

***

The first time he saw her here, he was shocked. He had been escorted to a cell upon arrival in the Underworld, greeted by two skeletal creatures that appeared to once have been human. They had yellowish skin, gray and red eyes, and were clothed in loincloths. 

“Master wishes to see you,” they told him in snake-hiss voices. The voices sounded as if they were spoken by only one of them, but their mouths moved in unison over rotted teeth. 

“Well, let’s get the introductions over with, shall we?” He replied with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, “Where’s the welcoming party?”

“I’m right here,” came a voice from the corner, and he gasped as he turned abruptly. She stepped into the dim light coming from the barred window of the cell. Her boot heels tapped a low, hollow beat against the stone floor. Her clothes were black, much like they were in the moments before his death, but her jacket appeared to have patchwork shreds of lace and satin and ripped cloth sewn in. Her hair was pulled back again into a braided bun at the nape of her neck. Her skin appeared garish in the faint light, her cheekbones glowing against the red slash of her lips. Eyes no longer a soft green but pools of black glared at him. She couldn’t be here, he just saw her alive and warm and safe – she couldn’t have. 

“Swan.” He managed to croak out. He swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes wide in disbelief.

“You were expecting someone else?” She stood in front of him with her ankles crossed and her hands behind her back. She tilted her head demurely and regarded him through her eyelashes.

“But I thought you were with your family, I thought you lived.” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “No, this is wrong! I’m the one who – “ 

“Died?” She let out a low chuckle. “Yes, but you underestimated The Dark One. Rumpelstiltskin enchanted Excalibur to be a conduit for the darkness. All of the darkness you took onto yourself, Excalibur funneled back into him when you died. He’s The Dark One again, and your sacrifice was for nothing.”

“Bloody Crocodile!” Killian swore through gritted teeth. “I should have killed him when I had the chance. What did he do to you?”

“Him? Nothing.” Emma smiled as she brought a hand up to Killian’s lapel. She walked her fingers along his neck and caressed his ear. “I’m just here to make sure you get what you deserve.” 

She stepped back and flicked her wrist. His hook appeared in her hand. She smirked and looked at it, turning it back and forth. Killian rubbed the edge of his brace, furrowing his eyebrows and frowning.

“And just exactly what is that?” He asked, growing suspicious. Why was Emma a Dark One? 

“Oh, you’ll see, Captain.” She turned a mirthful grin back in his direction, then disappeared with his hook in a cloud of gray smoke. 

***

The first time Killian ever knew the agony of the scourge came from a guard in a brig in Misthaven. He and his crew had taken a corvette of the coast of Nithalgia, and a local merchant had sold him out to The Royal Guard under King Thomas, and he was sentenced to thirty lashings with a cat o’ nine tails. His crew rescued him after his punishment, and he spent two weeks on his stomach under the care of a healer who applied various salves and tonics to his wounds. He never forgot the pain, though. He wielded something similar on the Jolly when his crew was in need of discipline. 

It took much from the man who wielded a scourge; his aptly named the captain’s daughter. A certain stance, muscular strength, and mental fortitude were required to administer the lashings. On board his ship, the deck swayed to and fro, and so did the instrument in his hands. He would shift his weight to his thighs, squatting and lunging to exert the right amount of effort to get an exact response from the flesh of a man’s back. Pieces of bone and metal were tied to the end of each lash, and when applied with enough force, would rip strips of flesh and muscle with every stripe. 

After ten lashes, he might also have scrapes on his forearm. The lashes often caught on his clothes and tore them. After twenty, his shoulder and upper arm would start to ache. Another man might switch to his left hand then, but Captain Hook had no such luxury. By thirty lashes, and he never administered more than that, he could barely stand the sight in front of him. The victim’s back and sides were mangled, bloody, and he was often ready to pass out from the pain of the lashes. Killian would often walk away and catch his breath, wipe the blood from his arms, and drink from his flask to stomach the image in his mind. 

***

Emma wielded the cat o’ nine tails expertly, never breaking a sweat, never grunting with exertion, never panting with exhaustion. It was a few hours or a few days after Killian’s arrival in the Underworld, he couldn’t tell. She came to him as abruptly as she had left the first time, when he was leaning against the bars of his cell, dozing. He felt something brush his cheek, then a whisper of clothing and the creak of leather. His eyes snapped open, and he saw the scourge dangling in front of him. Wary, he stood up and met her stare.

“Wakey, wakey,” she sang. 

She flicked her wrist and vines came up to wrap around his wrists, binding them together. Then, she reached out and pulled the bindings up, turning him around. He tried to struggle, but she shoved him with superhuman strength against the bars. She ripped his shirt from his back as more vines came up around his ankles, wrapping his legs and holding him into place. 

Killian was heaving, fretful of what was surely to come. He turned his head to look at her, eyes wide with fear, meeting hers as she cocked her head sideways.

“This isn’t you, Emma,” he pleaded, “Please, don’t do this. Please –“

She stepped back out of sight and the first stripe of the lash hit his back. His body was jerked sideways as the scourge ripped his skin, tearing at his back. He cried out. The lash whipped down again on the other side, digging in and pulling again. 

She began to count.

“One! Two!” She sounded joyful. He dared not look back at her as he braced himself against the bars, holding on and clenching his muscles against the blows.

“Three!”

“Four!”

“Five!”

He lost count after twenty-seven and he blacked out. He woke to being dressed, Emma tugging his shirt down over the mess of his bloody skin. 

“How many?” He breathed out. “Is it over?”

She stood up over him and straddled his prone form. His back was numb and his face and arms were burning. She must have wrapped the scourge around him. She smiled down at him and licked her dark lips.

“Fifty,” she dipped down and licked the side of his face. He winced. She ran her finger along one of his cuts and dug her nail into it. He screamed and gasped. She stood again and stared down at him, licking the blood from her fingertip.

“So is this it, then?!” He cried up at her, licking the edge of his lips. He was thirsty, but he’d be damned if he’d ask her for a drink of water. “Is my eternity in hell to be spent in torment, beaten and broken by the woman I love?!”

Her black eyes glittered. “Yes, and we’re just getting started.”

***

The hallway was dark and dank, and smelled of burned fish. It was a long shot, but Regina was tired of playing Hades’ games. An underground tunnel led to a network of passages. The group had scouted and followed two yellow, sickly looking creatures into the side of Bald Mountain. From there, they were able to make their way into what she suspected was Hades’ dungeons. 

After what felt like a week on Operation Firebird, the group was despairing. Their only bright point had been the luck of finding Liam Jones, Killian’s brother. He and the rest of the group had hit it off almost immediately, and Emma’s smile was proof of a change in the air. The tone of the mission changed, and they felt hope for the first time since returning from Camelot. Even Hades changing the layout of the land surrounding the town seemed to be only a minor hindrance. Gold had stayed behind to help Belle fight off an old enemy of theirs, and the group pressed on.

Inside the dungeons, they agreed to split up.

“I’ll take Henry,” Emma directed, “Liam, you go with Mom and Dad down that hallway, Regina – “

“Robin and I will check up there,” Regina pointed toward a stone stairwell.

“Right,” David nodded and looked around, “Everyone be on the lookout, meet back here in ten minutes.” He sighed wearily and walked down a passageway. Snow nocked an arrow and followed.

Regina and Robin exchanged glances with Liam and Henry before walking up the stairway. If she was being honest, it wasn’t the one-handed wonder she was worried about. It was Emma and Henry. Henry coming on a field trip to hell wasn’t exactly high on Regina’s wishes for her son. Even she would rather not experience this ever again. It was not something she was looking forward to when she actually did die. Emma was determined, but she was running on fumes after the initial adrenaline. It was only a matter of time before she cracked, and Regina hoped they found Killian before then. 

Emma poked her head around a corner. She knew in her gut that Hook had to be here somewhere. She was tired, hungry, and desperate to see him. Dark cells lined the hallway, lit only by dim torches on the wall. Liam and Henry peered into each cell, and she grabbed a torch from the wall to see inside. The cells on her left looked empty. She moved on. There was a stairwell at the end of the hallway. They crept up the steps, the soft whisper of her boots scuffing the stones. 

At the top step, Liam put his arm out to stop her and Henry. She looked under his arm and saw a scuffle at the end of the hall. Someone yelled. It sounded like Snow. 

Liam, Emma and Henry ran to the end of the hall. Snow was standing over a yellow-looking demon they had seen earlier.

“Where is he?!” She glared down at the creature, arrow pointed at his neck.

“Master has him.” The demon cooed back. “Master likes to play with him.”

“What does that mean?!” Emma began to panic. Was Killian being tortured?

The creature cackled and coughed and disappeared into a cloud of green smoke. Snow stumbled forward and David reached out to wrap his arms around her.

“I guess we keep looking,” He sighed, looking around. He reached an arm out to Emma, but she put her hands up. She stepped around them and fingered the ring on the chain around her neck. She sighed.

“Master has him, he said, what does that mean?”

“Probably Hades, if I had to guess,” Liam answered. He was growing grim. His brother was suffering, and for God only knew what crimes. Not for the first time he thought about his own foolishness and stubbornness in his life, and how Killian’s might have been better if he had only been a better role model. These people were here to save Killian from a fate he endured because he didn’t have anyone to guide him. Liam felt the weight of that responsibility keenly now.

“Someone’s coming.” Henry interrupted his reverie. David drew his sword. They were at a dead end. 

It was Robin, however, and he ran toward them. He stopped halfway down the hall and turned back around, beckoning and calling over his shoulder.

“Quick! Come quick! I think we’ve found him!”

They ran back downstairs and down the corridor they came through. Emma’s only thought was of Killian, and what she might be met with when they got to them. She ran so fast her lungs were burning, wishing for the ability to poof to wherever he was. Her heart was pounding as they ran up another flight of stairs, and down a hallway that smelled of piss and vomit. As they neared the end of the hallway, she realized the smell was coming from the cell Robin was leading them to. She could feel bile rising in her throat, which was tightening until –

“Oh my God! Killian!” 

The sight that met her was devastating. Regina knelt in front of a bruised, bloodied prone figure. She had her hands out in front of her, her eyes clenched tightly shut. 

“It’s no use,” Regina panted, opening her eyes and dropping her hands, “I can’t use my magic here. I can’t heal him.” She looked up and her eyes met Emma’s wide ones. 

Emma walked over to his still form. She looked over his body. He was wearing his clothes from the Enchanted Forest, but he was almost unrecognizable. Gashes and cuts in various stages of healing covered every inch of exposed skin. Both of his eyes were swollen shut, and his hair was matted to his head in bloody clumps. His lips were mangled, dry and pale. She heard a low wail and tore her eyes away from him to see his brother kneel down above his head. He was keening, his tears tracking his face and falling into Killian’s hair. 

“Brother.” Liam reached down and cupped Killian’s face with both hands, gingerly caressing his cheeks and hair, bending low and speaking softly, _“I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see. I sought my God, but my God eluded me. I sought my brother and I found all three.”_

“What can we do?” Snow addressed the group, “We can’t move him like this.”

“We’ll have to,” Regina stood and brushed off her pants. “He’s in pain, but he can’t, well, you know.”

“Die again?” Emma quipped, grimacing. “Alright, let’s get him out of here.”

Liam nodded and reached under Killian’s shoulders, grasping them. David and Henry each lifted one side, and Robin hefted Killian’s bare feet onto one shoulder. They looked like pallbearers. 

Killian didn’t make a sound the whole way out of Bald Mountain. He groaned when they stopped to rest and laid him on the ground halfway to town. 

“Let me see if I can get him to drink something,” Emma pulled a water bottle out of Henry’s backpack. She held it gently to his lips, pulling on his jaw to open his mouth. She dribbled a little water, and he began to cough. She shifted and lifted his head to try and encourage him to drink. He cracked his eyes open a little, and she gasped. “Killian.”

“You?” he breathed. He began to struggle in her arms. David and Robin knelt down and looked into his eyes.

“Hey, mate, it’s me. Robin.” He smiled down at him. Killian’s chest heaved and his bloodshot eyes darted around under his puffy eyelids. He blinked. Robin took the bottle from Emma and put it to Killian’s lips with a nod. He began to drink, draining half the bottle before sputtering and choking. He looked around and took a few deep breaths.

“Just rest, Killian,” David said, before looking up at Liam, “I think someone here wants to see you.” 

Liam took David’s place by Killian’s side, tears streaming down his face. Killian’s tongue darted out to wet his mangled lips. 

“Hello, little brother.” He winked.

“Liam. It’s you.” His eyes welled with tears.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to see you,” Liam choked out, letting a sob escape before reaching his thumb out to cautiously touch Killian’s cheek. He winced. “But let’s not talk now. You just rest and we’re going to get you somewhere safe.” Killian looked over at Emma.

“But her. It’s her.” 

Emma reached down to touch Killian’s other cheek, concern on her face, but he winced and began to struggle again. He started to heave and gasp. Emma’s eyes grew wide and she panicked. 

“Killian, what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” 

“It’s her! The Dark Swan!” 

“No, no! I’m just Emma!” She chuckled nervously. “You saved me, remember?” She put her hand to her chest. 

“You saved all of us,” Henry said. 

“You’re a hero, Killian,” Emma pleaded. “Please, you have to remember.”

David bent over him again and met his gaze, touching his face gingerly, like a father to his son.

"Hey, mate," he smiled thinly, "I promise, it's really us, not a trick or a vision."

"We came here for you, Hook," Snow crouched down next to her husband and he turned his head to her, blinking through swollen eyelids. She blinked back tears from her own eyes. "It's really us, and Emma, too. I promise."

“I can’t – “ Killian gasped, “Emma. Is it really you? Not the Dark Swan?”

“Yes, it’s me,” She reached out and caressed his hair. He flinched. “You have nothing to be afraid of. We’re not the Dark Ones anymore.”

“Water,” he gasped, “Please.”

She grabbed the water bottle from Robin and put it to his lips, pushing his torso up gently while he gulped. He finished drinking. 

Emma knew in that moment that Hades had been up to something more than just evading and playing games with them. He did a number on Killian as well. As the group made their way back into town, she knew. Her quest to save Killian was far from over. Snow took her hand, squeezing assurance. Hope. She met her mother’s eyes. They had made it this far. They had Hook. They could make it home.


End file.
